


The Dance

by arihime



Series: Twin AU [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arihime/pseuds/arihime
Summary: The crowd has been waiting. Who will the Exalt choose as his partner for the second dance?





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt “Dancing.”
> 
> I may or may not have spammed [The Dance by Megan Hilty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6SlnZqxMXs) while I was writing this, hence the title.

The coronation ball properly begins when Exalt Chrom leads Princess Lissa out onto the dance floor. He is a vision, their Exalt, resplendent in Ylissean gold, white, and even his own blue, handsome in a way that only young rulers can be. Many a lady in the crowd swoons as he dances by them, and many more wish they could take Princess Lissa’s place. The princess is just as impeccably dressed as her brother, a budding young woman on the cusp of maturity. Any other night, she would be the belle of the ball, but tonight belongs to the Exalt. This ball is, after all, in his honor.

All eyes have been on him throughout the night, and not a single person looks away now. It would be improper, after all. As such, they see him converse with Princess Lissa as they dance, see the smiles on their faces. Many a person will wonder what they say, but only a select few will know. 

The music comes to an end with a flourish, just as the Exalt and Princess spin their way back to the center of the ballroom. The crowd claps politely as they make their courtesies to each other, bantering in a way that only siblings can. Princess Lissa catches the Exalt in a hug that is completely improper, then happily skips off to join Lady Maribelle in the crowd.

All at once, the atmosphere in the ballroom changes, from relaxed to tense. The Exalt stands alone on the dance floor, while the musicians stand poised, waiting for their cue.

The second dance is about to begin, the thing that everyone in the crowd has been waiting for. The ladies who had swooned straighten. Hands come up to fix hair and ribbons and jewelry. The Exalt is unattached, young and single, and now, he must pick his own partner. 

Whoever is it will be the luckiest, most honored lady in all of Ylisse.

There has been much speculation in recent days about who he will pick. Lady Sumia, delicate and soft, a true flower of Ylisse? Lady Maribelle, mannerly and sharp witted? Some have even named Lady Cordelia, for her feelings are evident to anyone who would just look. 

(Anyone, that is, except the Exalt.)

They are all congregated together with the rest of the Shepherds, and indeed, the Exalt walks over to them. But it is not any of these eligible, known ladies that he approaches. Instead, he stops in front of a blonde haired girl in a lavender dress— beautiful, yes, with tan skin and violet eyes that have gone wide, but not anyone that the nobles know, not anyone who would be worthy of the Exalt’s attention, let alone the second dance.

And yet, the Exalt holds out his hand and bows to her, speaking words too low for the crowd to catch. While the girl looks nervous—as she should be— the Exalt is calm. He looks, dare they say it, like a man in love.

Instantly, whispers begin to spread through the crowd, a wave that floods the great hall. The girl hears and stiffens, though the Exalt remains none the wiser. He was always rather oblivious about certain things, and though he is shaping up to be a good ruler, it seems that some traits never change.

His hand hangs in the space between the two, and the girl’s gaze flickers between it, him, and the crowd. She must realize how trapped she is in this moment. To snub the Exalt at his own coronation ball would be unthinkable, and yet, to take his hand in front of everyone would open up a world of scrutiny and scorn. The whispers have identified who she is by now: the tactician’s twin sister, an archer, a _Plegian._

Not worthy at all.

The crowd leans forward as one, eager to see the events unfold. The Exalt’s smile has started to waver just a bit, his head tilted to one side questioningly. The girl looks about ready to bolt. 

And then, she stumbles forward, crashing into the Exalt. He catches her with ease, and as one they both look at the culprit.

Tan and lavender haired, the royal tactician grins at the two. He waves them off, as if the Exalt were just a commoner, as if this were a country dance and not a grand ball. The girl blinks at him, then all at once her body relaxes in what people will later come to argue is either relief or defeat. She turns to the Exalt and nods, a tentative smile gracing her features.

His answering grin practically lights up the whole ballroom. And just like that, the gossip and speculation begin.

* * *

It takes a moment for Aislin to calm herself enough to take Chrom’s hand, and another for him to tuck it in the crook of his elbow and lead her to the middle of the dance floor. In those two moments, Aislin feels her whole world turn on its head. She knows that Chrom cares for her but this—to practically proclaim so in front of all Ylisse? This is something she never imagined.

They take their places. Chrom slides his hand down her back and to her waist, and Aislin shivers at the touch, her brain screaming at her that it was too long and lingering. She has never minded Chrom touching her before, in private, but now in front of so many people, she is suddenly hyper aware of all the places they are connected. The hand on her waist, and another grasping hers aloft. Her arm goes around his shoulder, hand resting against his neck as lightly as she dares. He leans into her touch, enough that her fingers slip onto his skin, and warmth shoots through her. 

The music can’t start fast enough—this dance can’t start fast enough. The sooner it starts, the sooner it can be over, and the sooner she can escape the gaze of the crowd.

Her anxiety makes her clumsy. When the music does start, she almost misses the first step. Chrom steadies her easily, continuing with the beat as if nothing happened. Aislin takes another breath and tries to focus. She will not make a fool of herself now, nor of Chrom by extension. Dancing is not difficult; she likes dancing, and dancing with Chrom should be a dream come true.

But this feels more like a nightmare.

A gentle squeeze of her hand brings Aislin out of her thought. Even if she isn’t enjoying herself, Chrom looks rather happy. His smile makes her heart hurt a bit. She should be sharing in the joy of this moment, and yet she can’t. As much as she wants to, she _can’t._

“I probably should have asked before I pulled you in front of the crowd like that.” Chrom says suddenly, startling Aislin enough that she stumbles again. And again, Chrom makes up for her easily, turning her stumble into an artful twirl.

“I would have preferred a warning.” Aislin admits when they are back together. She would have made sure to absent herself, had she known this was his plan.

“Sorry. I thought I’d make it a surprise. I know how much you like dancing. You looked so happy when we were in Donnel’s village.”

 _That was different._ Aislin wants to scream. That was a simple country dance in front of friends, not a waltz before all of the Ylissean nobility.

She can feel their gazes on her back, and hear the slither of whispers.

_Who is she?_

_Plegian nobody._

_Not worthy of the Exalt._

When she looks over Chrom’s shoulder, most of the crowd wear polite smiles, but she knows only those belonging to the Shepherds are true. The rest carry a concealed malice against her, the usurper.

“Aislin.” Chrom says, forcing her gaze back to him. His smile¬ has begun to falter. “Was I wrong? You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”

He’s been so worried about her happiness these past few days— no, more than that. Since they both admitted their feelings, he’s continuously asked if she was happy, or safe. In Aislin’s whole life, there have only been a finite amount of people who have cared about her as much as Chrom cares about her now. He loves her, and that thought alone is enough to make her relax a bit.

“I’m just nervous.” Aislin says. “The crowd is so big.”

Chrom’s hand shifts suddenly, moving from her waist to her back. He gives a gentle push, drawing Aislin further against him until their chests are touching, and she has to crane her neck around look at anything other than him.

“Chrom, what—”

“They aren’t there.” Chrom whispers. “Just focus on me, alright? You’ll be fine.”

Forgetting the crowd is impossible, but Aislin buries her face in his shoulder regardless. No matter what the nobles may say about her, at least she is safe in Chrom’s arms.

As one, the crowd shifts behind them, pairing off and joining them on the dance floor, until she and Chrom are lost in a sea of couples. Aislin lets the sound and rhythm of the music wash over her. This close together, she and Chrom aren’t really dancing so much as swaying together in the middle of the dance floor. His hand slips back to her waist, still holding her close, and she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head. 

She looks up at him in surprise.

“You’ve finally started to relax.” Chrom says, and the love in his eyes makes her breath catch. For a moment, she contemplates stretching up and kissing him, here in the middle of the ballroom, but the impulse dies just as soon as it comes. Instead, she settles her head back against his shoulder and mumbles,

“Well, you had a persuasive argument.”

Aislin feels his answering chuckle as a rumble in his chest.

They don’t speak after that; they don’t need to. And as the last notes of the music fade, Aislin finds herself reluctant to pull away.

But then there’s a gentle tap on her shoulder, and when Aislin turns, it is to find Narcissus grinning at her gleefully.

“Someone looks like they’re enjoying themselves.” He says.

Aislin untangles herself from Chrom so that she can face her brother fully. In a way, she’s grateful that Narcissus shoved her, just as much as she’s annoyed at him for it.

Still, she thinks as Chrom comes beside her and takes her hand, maybe she’s more grateful that annoyed.

“Yes, I am.”

“Good. But you know, I think it’s time to trade partners.” He motions around them, where people are indeed pairing off anew. “Mind if I cut in?”

Aislin smiles. “Not at all.” 

She takes a step back, then in one smooth motion reaches out and shoves Narcissus at Chrom. “Have fun you two.”  
Narcissus takes all of two seconds to recover. Then he grins at Chrom and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

He makes the offer so easily, but then, that has always been Narcissus, forthright to a fault. For his part, Chrom nods and takes Narcissus’ hand. “Sure.”

In that moment, Aislin wonders what would have happened if Chrom had never shown his feelings for her, if he had gotten together with Narcissus instead. He probably would be happier to have a lover who didn’t pull back at every opportunity, who could reciprocate his feelings the way he deserved.

But instead, he picked her, and he has gone after her at every opportunity. Even now, when she is ready to retreat back into the crowd, he stops her.

“We’ll dance again later?”

“Of course.” Aislin replies.

One day, she will stop letting Chrom pull her back. And judging by the way whispers surround her as she makes her way to the refreshment table, that day will be soon.

But for now, the night is still young, and Aislin has a dance waiting for her.


End file.
